No Bra. No Problem.

Last year I bought a pair of shoes. Not any old pair of shoes but ones that signified a desire I had to get moving. They were whatever you want to call them; sneakers, or running shoes, or athletic shoes – although I don’t sneak or run or consider myself an athlete. These were shoes for me to wear to a fitness gym.

I never put those shoes on. They sat at the front door and I never grabbed them and tossed them into a gym bag. I didn’t lace them up and hit a treadmill. I just let them sit there. Much like I did.

I had a lot of excuses – two little kids, moving house, husband working full time and attending school and then heading out of town a lot. Last year was stupid busy. I guess I just didn’t want it bad enough.

Now things are settled. My husband is finished University and has a more predictable schedule. We moved and we know what life looks like day to day (for the most part.) I have no more excuses.

So on the weekend I joined a gym. I picked up those shoes and put them in a gym bag. I decided to go TO the gym and use the equipment there.

Only, I didn’t have a suitable bra. Not only did I not have a suitable bra, but the ones I had were most definitely not going to work. I was scared of either being knocked out by my knockers or having them ‘fall through’ like onions swinging in mesh bags to dry in the breeze.

No problem, no more excuses for me! I’d stop on the way there and grab a sports bra. I pop into the store and finally find them. I grab two. I also grab some socks. I see some cute boots and want to try them on but I don’t. I stay focused on the bras and socks and pay and leave.

I realized I also needed a lock so I could use a locker to house my purse and coat and gym bag. Across the parking lot I go, into another store. I hoof it all the way to the back where the padlocks are. What am I going to do with the key? I’m not the type to stash stuff in my bra, no matter how sporty it is. I needed a key holder thingy for my wrist. You know, the bracelet kind made of spiraling plastic. Those were at the other end of the store. I’m running out of time here. I needed to get my shopping done so I could actually get to the gym. I go towards the key chain things and see a cork screw in my travels. I wanted to grab that cork screw. I wanted to ‘screw this’ and open a bottle of wine and just forget the whole damn thing.

But I find the key chains and make my purchases and head back to the car. Off I go! I’m going to the gym!

I arrive and head up the stairs, already half sweaty from shopping. In the dressing room I pick a locker and stash my stuff. It’s time to put the bra on. Frig, it’s tight. Now, instead of them ‘falling through,’ they’re kind of ‘popping out’ But I wiggle and adjust and cram and it’s going to work. It will do better than my other bra anyway. Damn boobs. So much trouble.

Now the socks and shoes. I hadn’t touched the sneakers in a year. They’re purple and clean and fracking-damn-it the kids have tied knots in the laces! I’m hunched over, picking at the laces with the key hanging from my wrist trying to stay happy about what I’m about to do for myself. I’m trying not to get freaking mad. I’m trying not to think about a bottle of wine and a comfy couch.

I finally get my shoes laced up. I walk out there and I work out. I did it. I didn’t get knocked out by my knockers. I didn’t pass out. I didn’t even die. Crap, I guess that means I have to go back again eh?

Way to go Heather! It’s always hardest to start and I can relate to the whole sport bra issue. I am currently eyeing my sports bras and wondering how my post-two-kids chest will feel about squeezing into those things.

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